


What Immortal Hand or Eye

by Sakon76



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:05:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakon76/pseuds/Sakon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various Immortal!Jamie stories. Chapter 3: Jack always knew he was a bad influence. He just never expected it to come to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Long Winter's Nap

It was a thousand years before Jack disappeared. And when it happened, it was not entirely unexpected.

The other Guardians had long noted how Jack seemed to be getting quieter. Thinner. There had never been much color to him, but even the faint pink of his skin had been paling, until all that could be seen against the snow was the dark of his brows and the ice-heart blue of his eyes.

They had tried to cheer him up, to invigorate him, every way they knew how, and a few new ones they invented. For a couple years, it seemed to work. But slowly the smiles grew fewer again, the laughs once more quiet.

His constant companion, when asked, looked up from his book of fables, and smiled sweetly. "Jack's tired," Jamie explained. "He needs a rest. Have you ever seen him sleep?"

The four of them looked at each another, thinking back over a millenia of acquaintance. None were able to remember so much as a catnap. One by one, they shook their heads. The Sandman, considering a swirl of his dream sand, nodded his agreement last of all.

Jamie closed his book. "I'll probably go with him," he said. "So don't worry if I disappear too."

"But... but why?" Tooth asked.

Jamie shrugged. "We're elementals, he and I. It works differently for us. And Jack needs looking after."

That was as much explanation as the youngest Guardian would give them. But it was not too many days later when North knocked on the door of the Jack's suite at the North Pole. He got no answer, so he gently opened the door. And immediately shivered.

The wide glass-ice doors that usually framed a magnificent view of the Arctic were flung open. North went to close them, then stopped, gaping at what he saw outside.

Two ageless teenagers hovered above the wintery expanse. Jack's eyes were closed; as North watched, he dissolved into thousands of snowflakes, each being borne away by the wind. Jamie glanced back at North, a small smile on his face, then shut his own eyes and followed suit. His faintly-glowing form shattered into thousands of rainbow-prisms of light, blown away after the snowflakes.

"Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff..." North breathed, eyes wide. He stepped outside, careless of the cold. Jutting up from the snow were an old wooden staff and a sheathed silver katana. He gathered up the two tools carefully, and brought them back inside. Closing the ice-glass doors behind himself, he laid the weapons on adjacent beanbag chairs, then quietly left the room, to go inform the other Guardians of the disappearance of two of their number.

During the long years that followed, there was no shortage of snow days in the world, no lessening of lights against the darkness. Somehow, in fact, the snow was even more fun, as though each flake imbued was with just a hint of joy. And each nightlight, each flashlight, each candle, seemed to hold a spark more bravery glowing in its depths.

If, during his Christmas runs, North thought he detected familiar presences in the brilliant flurries that accompanied him around the globe, he found them comforting. When Bunny railed at the snowfalls interfering with his egg hunts, he tended to end the rants with grudging admissions of sourceless echoes of familiar laughter. For Tooth's part, she confided that sometimes the winter winds seemed to help her fairies along, and that more than one bedroom had been inexplicably bright, chasing shadows away.

Sandy... well, when asked if the elementals were indeed asleep and dreaming, the Sandman just kept his own counsel, and smiled.

For a long time, those hints of their comrades were all that the remaining Guardians needed, their proof that the Guardians of Fun and Bravery were still around. But as the years passed, these encounters grew fewer, then, eventually, stopped altogether. After a time, the remaining Guardians began to accept that their friends might be gone, might be scattered formless forever. Their meetings took on a sombre tone.

Until the day when the wind knocked open the great windows of North's meeting room, blowing in sparkling white snow.

"What the blazes--" Bunny demanded, standing.

Tooth wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.

Sandy just watched the snow, wide-eyed.

North looked first at Sandy, then back at the glittering snowflakes. "Jack?" he asked, his tone incredulous and eyes widening. "Jamie...?"

Tooth straightened, eyes wide. Bunny gaped. "You don't think--" he asked. Sandy grinned broadly.

The wind blew the snow through the complex, dancing here and there, wild, untamable. Laughter echoed in its wake. The Guardians followed the flurry, remembering how first Jack and then later Jamie had always seemed at home whirling in the wind's embrace, neither its masters nor its victims.

When the gale burst open the door of the long-unused suite, it was no surprise. Nor, a moment later when they followed, was anyone truly startled to see the old shepherd's crook blown upright, the snow reforming into the shape of a white-haired teenager holding it. Even less surprising was the sparkling light separating from the snowflakes and coalescing into a second form, brunet but no less familiar. Jamie snatched up his katana, slinging it on his back the moment he was solid enough. His eyes glowed. So did Jack's.

And the life, the others saw, that had been wearing away from the pair for so long, was back in full force.

Smiling, Jack leaned against his staff. "Miss us?" he asked.

Jamie thwapped him on the back of his head. His smile was less mischievous than Jack's, but no less sincere. "We're back," he said.

Bunny sputtered. "Where have you /been/?!" he demanded indignantly, but his protest was largely lost in the crush of hugs, welcoming the two youngest back into the fold.

From amid the arms around them, Jack's eyes met Jamie's. "We're home," he said in perfect contentment.

* * *

**Author's Note:** An odd little oneshot that pretty much came out of nowhere. The title is obviously from Clement Clarke Moore's "A Visit From St. Nicholas." Which gives me the entirely unrelated mental image of Jack and Jamie shoving at one another, playfully arguing out which of them is "Mama in her kerchief" and which "I in my cap." :)


	2. At the Borders

The two teenage boys meet at the borders of their seasons. One used to be older; both used to be mortal. Neither lets that rule them.

One looks largely as he used to; his hair is still an earthy mortal brown, but his eyes are now a tawny amber, and red leaves are frequently caught in his messy hair. He wields a paintbrush, an artist in death as he was in life. Fog shrouds his wake.

The other boy was more changed by death; he has frosty white hair and ice-blue eyes. He carries a shepherd's crook, and the blustery wind dogs his heels like a faithful wolf, only ever semi-tame.

The boys play like lovers, for that is what they are, through the late fall and early winter. Jamie colors the leaves gold and red; Jack knocks them from their branches in a magical fall. Jamie laughs at the bare branches and hides among the trees. Jack paints the ground with frost, seeking his hiding companion.

Whoever pounces the other first gets to pin them to the ground and kiss them sensible. It's a difficult thing for either, sensibility. The kissing sometimes takes a long, long time to get to that point. And when the loser is sensible (or dazed; they seem to look quite similar), the winner begins the chase anew, disappearing to the next region south, leaving the other to pursue.

There's a rabbit who guards spring, who covers his green eyes and moans that the two are at it again. There's a big man wearing red, who merely clasps his belly and laughs. There's an iridescent fairy, who swoons over young love and shining teeth. There's a man made of golden dreams, who sometimes gives the pursuer hints and sometimes misleads them; either gets him smiles. And there's the moon, shining silver-white down on the chase. If he looks somewhere between amused and befuddled at what he has wrought, well, none of the others can really blame him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I've seen a couple stories where Jamie ends up as a/the spirit of autumn. This is my (silly/cute) take on the idea.


	3. Endings and Beginnings

"Jack." Jamie's voice was wet, and full of pain, and a little scared. But not much. "What's dying like?"

Jack hesitated. He didn't want to think about that, didn't want to remember, not now. But... Jamie was asking.

He took a breath and closed his eyes.

"It hurts," he said. Jamie breathed a soft "ha" of laughter in response. The night was so still around them. Why was it so still? "I drowned. In winter. In Burgess."

"Wait - you're really from Burgess?" Jamie sounded surprised.

Jack snorted. "Colonial boy. My parents were some of the founders." He drew another breath, listening to Jamie's labored, wet struggle for air. The human's mouth was red with blood, and Jack didn't need to be a doctor to know that was a bad sign. "Drowning... hurts. The cold was like knives first, then it all got numb. But my lungs... I couldn't breathe. I needed to breathe, I had to breathe! I ended up breathing water. That hurt worse." Understatement of the century. Jack took another breath. So did Jamie. "At the end, though," Jack said, remembering, "the pain stopped mattering. It was like my mind went somewhere else. Somewhere peaceful. Like falling asleep, but without any dreams."

"And then you woke up."

"And then I woke up," Jack confirmed, opening his eyes again. "The moon was just like tonight," he said, looking up at Manny, who was as useless right now as he was. "Big and full and winter-bright. And I didn't know anything about who I was, or what I was, or really anything much at all, but I knew I was happy right then. I knew he made me. I knew he loved me. And I knew I loved him right back."

"Sounds nice." Jamie drew another breath, low and slow and careful. He sounded like he was trying not to choke on it. "Jack, what do you think happens to everyone else? The people the Moon doesn't bring back."

Jack shook his head. "I don't know. Wish I did."

"Is there a Death?"

Jack didn't look at Jamie. Couldn't. "Yeah. I've seen it lots of times."

"It? Not him or her?"

"You read too many comics." Jack glanced at Jamie, couldn't help it. Couldn't look away from the wrecked body once he had. "Death changes form, Jamie. Sometimes it looks like the one from those comic books. Sometimes it looks like the one from the Discworld. But it has a hundred other shapes and a thousand other faces."

"How do you know it, then?"

He didn't look away from brown eyes, pupils wide against the night. "Black light."

That scored a weak laugh that fell into painful coughing. "You know that's an oxymoron?"

Wincing, unable to help, Jack shook his head. "It isn't. You know how Sandy's got that golden glow? Well, Death has something like that. It's a... dark mist that follows it. But the mist glows and sparkles with all kinds of colors. Death's not always a bad guy, either. It can be kind, or funny, or cruel, just like the rest of us. It's a part of the world, too."

"Death and taxes." Jamie coughed once more. Blood flecked his lips, gray in the moonlight. "Is... is it here yet?"

Jack didn't even need to look around to know. He shook his head. "Not yet."

"I'm glad you're here, Jack."

Jack tried not to cry, tried to force a laugh instead, failed at both. "Teach you to go mountain-climbing."

"We were only hiking." Jamie's voice was small, like he was apologizing. "It's not like I was tackling Everest, or anything."

A slip, crumbling rocks, shoving a kid back from the edge... Jack hadn't even _been_ here when Jamie had fallen from the cliff. He'd been south, in Chile, laying down some snow in a village in the Andes. The children had been gleeful, so he'd planned to spend the afternoon there, playing with them. But then something had slammed through Jack, pain and shock crumpling him to the ground. How he'd known, he didn't know and might never, but he'd _known_ something had happened to Jamie. "You were supposed to be safe," he whispered, tears stinging at his eyes.

"Life isn't safe, Jack," Jamie whispered back. "If it was, you wouldn't still be here."

"No," Jack murmured, "I guess I wouldn't be."

A moment's silence, then Jamie asked, "What was your name before?"

Jack had to smile. "Jack Frost."

Jamie blinked, a little clarity coming back into his eyes. "Seriously?"

Jack nodded. "Jackson Overland Frost. Manny had the naming thing all cut out, with me."

"Jackson's kind of cool. Why Overland, though?"

"It was my uncle's name. He drowned, back in England, when my dad was a kid."

"Runs in your family, then."

Jamie could have meant the name, or the method of death; either was true. "Yeah."

Jamie's body was shattered. How he was conscious, Jack didn't know. He hadn't been, much, when Jack had first found him. It was only that attempt to raise his head, to pick him up and carry Jamie to safety, to a hospital, to _help_ , that had fully awoken the teenager.

Jack never wanted to hear anyone scream in that much pain again. He... he hadn't been able to stand it, or Jamie's desperate begging for it to stop. He'd put his friend back down. He didn't know if that had been a mistake.

Now, Jamie apparently couldn't feel anything below his shoulders. It was probably a blessing. Jack had stayed with him as the afternoon bled into night, cooling a feverish forehead, wiping away blood and sweat, waiting, _hoping_ for the forest rangers, or some kind of rescue. Surely Jamie's college friends had reported his fall? But no one had come, and Jack didn't know why.

"At least this is the way I wanted to die," Jamie said, and Jack hated, _hated_ the acceptance in his voice.

"Not old, in your bed, with your family around you?" he tried to joke, failing miserably.

"I wanted to die having accomplished something. Having saved someone." Jamie's eyes met Jack's. He smiled. "Like you."

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a memory from another lifetime arose: Jack's mother scolding him, a laugh in her voice. "Jackson Frost, you are a terrible influence," she'd said, "and I hope all the other children can be like you."

He couldn't even remember what she'd been scolding him for, but obviously he'd done something she approved of.

"My mother always said I was a bad influence," he mumbled now, and that startled Jamie into a loud laugh. It was followed fast by more harsh, ugly coughing and choking.

Jack stooped low, leaning close over Jamie, hands on either side of his face. "Don't die, Jamie," he said, tried to command. "Don't die! It's almost dawn, they'll come looking for you soon."

"Jack," Jamie breathed, "do you really think it will _matter_?"

"I don't want you to die," Jack said, and it was a harsh, ragged sound. His eyes hurt, and Jamie kept going out of focus. "It's not fair!" The tears finally overwhelmed his eyes, breaking free, and they were ice before they touched the ground.

Jamie's breath was ragged. "Do you... forget the moon when the sun comes out?" he asked.

"Jamie, don't do this," Jack begged.

"And does the sun leave, when the clouds block it out?"

"Jamie...."

"You can't keep me here, Jack." Jamie's eyes were fast on his, and full of painful lucidity. "But I'll always be with you, right here." He couldn't reach up and press fingers over Jack's heart, but the sentiment, they both knew, was there. Jamie's eyes slid to the side. "Oh, hello." His voice wasn't scared.

Death came into the clearing, and it looked exactly like it had in those comic books Jamie loved: a pale young woman with dark hair, wearing an ankh. A dark mist, glowing with all the colors of the rainbow, followed in her wake, much like snowflakes and frost did in Jack's.

She knelt down beside Jamie, and smiled at him. 

Jamie smiled back.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

Jack looked at Jamie for a moment more. There was something wrong with his heart, he thought, because nothing right could hurt this much. He managed a harsh, ragged breath, then another, then looked at Death. "Why?" he asked, lowly.

Her expression was not without sympathy. "Because," she replied, shrugging. She looked up at the moon, and then at the eastern sky, which was turning brighter, then back at Jack. "Are you going to stay?"

"Until they come for him," Jack said.

"Hmm."

And then Death was gone.

Jack took a long, shuddering breath, and reached out, closing Jamie's eyes. Two of his tears splashed on Jamie's face, cold, disturbing the blood flecks there. Wiping his eyes on the bloody sleeves of his hoodie, Jack retreated to the nearest tree, sat with his back against the bark, and bowed his head into his arms, waiting.

The woods never quite slept. There was always something awake, humming, singing, moving. Just here, it was so quiet, but as time dragged on, Jack could hear a woodpecker. And... a lark? He wasn't sure. Something calling, anyway. And the movements of a larger animal through the undergrowth, but it didn't come near, so he didn't care. The wind dragged at the treetops, murmuring to itself.

It seemed like hours passed. But it couldn't have been that long before Jack heard the breath.

Opening his eyes, Jack squinted against the brightness. And gaped, scrambling to his feet.

Jamie's body hovered in the air, drawn upward by forces out of this world.

Jack stared up at the Moon. _Manny?_ he questioned silently, and got an impression of _he's worthy/I'm busy/no complaints now, kid_ , as well as a sense that Manny wasn't the only one involved in this. Given that Jamie was also painted in the rosy light of the dawning sun, Jack switched his stare to that celestial body as well. But she'd never talked to him, and he didn't know how to talk to her.

Heart beating fast, Jack watched as Jamie was slowly lowered back to the ground. There was no frozen lake this time, no winter. What had the Moon and Sun made Jamie into?

Whole in body again, incredibly hale, Jamie looked raptly up at his two heavenly parents. Jack was suddenly struck with a horrible thought. _What if Jamie doesn't remember anything?_

He hardly dared breathe as Jamie blinked and looked around. Then his eyes lit on Jack. He blinked. Then he smiled. "Jack?"

Laughing in relief, almost sobbing, Jack flew over, hugged him tight. "I thought I'd lost you."

Jamie grinned, hugging back. Jack had the absent thought that Tooth was going to swoon over Jamie's teeth as well.

"So..." Jack asked, drawing back, "what _are_ you?"

Jamie laughed, and the sound seemed to peal through the woods like music. "I have no idea. Let's find out!"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** ...I have no idea where this came from. I also have no idea what Jamie is the spirit _of_ , though I do know what his Center is. As North's is Wonder and Jack's is Fun, Jamie's is Belief. Is he a future Guardian? Probably, a few centuries down the line when Pitch makes another attempt. And, yes, for Jamie, who is canonically a little bit of a geek and media addict, Death took its form from Neil Gaiman's Sandman series.


End file.
